


How to Save a Life

by catratbatsnake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First War with Voldemort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catratbatsnake/pseuds/catratbatsnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend<br/>Somewhere along in the bitterness<br/>And I would have stayed up with you all night<br/>Had I known how to save a life</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Save a Life

**Author's Note:**

> This work is loosely based off a song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjVQ36NhbMk - because after I first listened to it, I couldn't not.

They’d bought the flat together the week after their final year at Hogwarts had ended - even then, the fear and the tension caused by what they all knew was to come hung in the air alongside their elation at finally growing up, and the beautiful sadness that accompanies the end of an era. Back then, Remus had thought the flat one of he most exciting things in the entire world - the cracks in the plaster gave it character, small rooms seemed deliciously private compared to the shared dorms they’d been used to, the poky kitchen was practically chic - but the best bit was, it was theirs. Not just something he owned, no. Something they owned _together_ , as an Us. Even then, after seven years of being a loved and accepted member of the Hogwarts community, after nearly fourteen months of dating the striking creature that was Sirius Black, a part of him couldn't quite believe he was really a part of things. Not an outcast in any way.

These days, he barely noticed the flat, even when he was there.

They’d all wanted to join the Order, right from the moment they’d left the relative safety of the Castle for the last time. There was a fire, of the kind that burns strongest in the hearts of the young and the brave and the reckless, a fire that demanded to be used. A fire that wanted to consume all of those responsible for the terrible things the _Prophet_ reported, to save the world and live forever on the adrenaline rush it created.

Remus sighed almost inaudibly as he tiptoed through the flat, slipping his cloak over his shoulders before setting the front door to lock from the inside. His hand hovered above his key on the table by the front door they’d found in Oxfam the week after they moved in and, just for a moment, he considered not taking it. Considered that maybe, if Sirius didn't want him back the next time he came home, he’d just stay away. Just then, he heard a sound from the bedroom that could only be his lover. He was out of the door and down the stairs, key in pocket, before Sirius was even fully awake. As intended.

Why had he joined up? At the time, Remus Lupin could’ve told you, with a light in his eye and a note to his voice that was somewhere between awe and grim determination, that they were going to end this war. He, and Sirius Black, and James Potter and Lily Evans, the brightest of their generation of Hogwarts students, and so many others, were going to put a stop to this ridiculous nonsense.

Now, though, he no longer felt invincible, as he snuck out of the house on cold September mornings to go on yet another Order mission. As he left before Sirius, his beautiful Sirius, was awake because he couldn't bear to say goodbye to him yet again, to have his angry and suspicious at his departure yet again, to be unable to tell him why he was going or when he would be back. These days, it felt as though there was nothing he could say or do to lessen that diamond-hard anger that seemed to fill his lover. Remus had never imagined he’d be giving this much of his life up when he joined the Order. His time, certainly. But not the one thing that mattered the most to him, all for some stupid mission that would be just like every other one and would achieve absolutely nothing. The feeling that he was losing Sirius bit by bit was the worst part, Remus thought, but the glaringly obvious fact that his work with the werewolves was getting them absolutely nowhere - that all of the missions Dumbledore devised, every last one of them, were having absolutely no effect - was what really made his blood boil. Here they were, giving up everything they had and more, and they weren't even saving lives, let alone providing effective resistance.

  


#####  October Nineteenth 

Sirius was sitting on top of their tiny kitchen table - just large enough for the pair of them and James and Lily, at a squeeze - when Remus got home. He placed his battered leather satchel on one of the dining chairs and put the kettle on to make himself the first proper cup of tea he’d had since he was last in the flat, more than three weeks ago. As he busied himself with the tap, he felt Sirius’ eyes boring a hole into his shoulder blades, and couldn't help but remember a time when he’d have walked straight in the door and into his lover’s arms. A time when Sirius had actually seemed pleased to have him home, instead of being curled into the foetal position in weird places around the house, never more than two metres from a dirty knife.

“I know where you’ve been” the tone was flat, accusatory.

“Sirius, I-“

“Peter told me. Peter, that worthless kid we used to keep around at school because he did what we told him. That little rat who’s too scared to attend Order meetings most of the time in case the Dark Lord Avada Kedavras his teddy bear. The pathetic, gibbering idiot who used to copy all of our homework.” Sirius snorted in disgust, his aristocratic features somehow managing to remain beautiful throughout. “I had to find out from _him _, because you’re too much of a coward to tell me.”__

“Tell you what?” What was he being accused of?

“Oh, please. Don't pretend you’re innocent. You don’t think, after all these years, I don't know you’re cleverer than they give you credit for, Remus Lupin?” Grey eyes were the colour of storm clouds, thick with thunder but no lightning. 

Remus was properly irritated now, tea forgotten. “So tell me, Sirius Black, what exactly am I accused of? We all know you have a history of jumping in with both feet and punishing the wrong person as well as the right one”.

He knew it was a low blow, hinting at the incident with Snape that had taken place in their Fifth Year. But he was angry, and so, so tired of tiptoeing around like a fucking ballet dancer all of the time. 

“YOU’RE THE REASON WE”RE LOSING THIS!” The storm in Sirius’ eyes had its lightning, now. “IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU, TAKING IT ALL BACK TO _HIM_ EVERY TIME WE DRAW BREATH - “

If there hadn’t been flesh holding it in place, Remus’s jaw would have dropped through the floor of the flat below by now.

“I’m not - “ He had to focus on the present, to not dwell on what Sirius was saying, if he was going to make it through this.

“All these ‘top secret missions’, it’s you sneaking off to be in his little club, isn't it? Guess you found better friends than us, eh? Showing your true colours now.” The room was so quiet, Remus could practically hear the sound of the venom dripping from Sirius’ voice hitting the floor.

 _He thinks it’s me_. As those words sunk into the meat of his brain, Remus felt his heart fragment. _There’s a spy in the Order, has been for a while, and he thinks it’s me_.

Even as he tried to keep his voice steady as he said, “no, that’s not it”, tears rolling freely down his face, he could see Sirius’ point. All those times he’d been away with the wolves, unable to tell anyone where he was going or why or how long for in case it got out that one of the pack was an Order member, how he’d taken to sneaking out so as not to upset his lover with goodbyes, how he never received his mission instructions at the same time as the others because his were based around the moon and the motions of the werewolf pack. Yes, he could see how someone with a pair of eyes could come to that conclusion.

But surely not Sirius. Sirius, who leapt feet first into everything, who combined his gut feelings with genius to concoct the most ridiculous plans. Who went wherever his heart took him. Did that really lead him here? The though was unbearable.

“Prove it” The rain had come to join the thunderstorm, now.

Remus drew a deep breath. This was it. He’d originally refused Dumbledore’s offer, but if it was his only chance…

“O-okay. I’ll be home in two weeks, maximum.” He walked out of the kitchen towards the front door, causing at the last second to lean against Sirius and squeeze his shoulder, just for a second, before leaving the hallway and letting the front door click behind him. This time, he didn't take the key.

  


#####  October Twenty-Ninth

This was it. This was it, it, it, Remus could have cried. His hands shook violently as he drew the memory into a slightly chipped sample jar taken from the nearest muggle hospital. Crystal phials were better, but the Order only accepted the freshest memories as evidence. Those were the hardest to tamper with.

**“Certainly, my lord.” The voice that spoke was thin, whiny, and Remus would have recognised it anywhere, even in his lupine form. Of course, it didn't hurt that he’d been chewing on a rather large Monkshood plant ever since he’d first begun to transform.**

**“Very well, Wormtail. You have proven yourself most useful to me.” The smaller of the two cloaked figures stood a little straighter. ‘You will be rewarded in time. For the moment, however, do not allow yourself to forget that it is of utmost importance that you maintain your position in the Order of the Phoenix.”**

**“Yes, my Lord.” Remus could hear the adoration in his voice.**

Remus pushed the memory further back into his mind, wishing for the nth time that hour that he’d used the spell to remove, rather than duplicate, the memory. He thought he might be sick.

Still, part of him felt a little lighter as he began the two-day journey home. He was glad to be able to leave the swamp that is Wales, if nothing else.

  


#####  October Thirty-first 

Remus went to push open the front door, then remembered he’d left his key. He hadn't forgotten why, either. He settled for knocking. 

To his surprise, Sirius opened the door without complaint. Or any emotion at all.

Taking a deep breath, Remus tried on a smile for size. It didn't really fit him any more. Time for step one.

“Sirius, we need to talk”. Sirius snorted his response. Remus sat on the sofa. Sirius continued his pacing. “Oh, sit down, will you, I only want to talk.”

Astonishingly, Sirius sat in the chair opposite him at the table. “Yes?” A smile plays on his lips.

Remus found himself unable to look at those grey, grey eyes. He stared out of the window to the right of the sink instead, looking out over grimy rooftops covered in seagulls and shit. “It isn’t me. And I can prove it.”

“Is that so?” Sirius smirked, disbelieving.

“I’ll need a pensive to show you, but yes” Remus forced himself to look at that face, still so beautiful, but he couldn't quite meet the eyes. “Yes.”

“And who would you say the, ah, informant is, then?” 

Remus knew he’d be asked that, and he’d already made up his mind. He’d never wanted to keep secrets from Sirius, never seen the point, but there was no way he was doing so now. Not with everything he’d ever cared about so close to the line. He couldn't help noticing more lines, as he stared at Sirius’ arms in place of meeting his eye, too.

The grey eyes were expectant, when he finally met them. “Pettigrew,” he said simply.

A sharp, barklike laugh. Sirius would hate to know just how much he seemed like his father at this moment. Remus had only met the man once, but that was plenty enough to show his cold and cynical side.

“Good one.” That was not a real smile. 

“I have memory proof, I saw him converse with the Dark Lord.”

Sirius shook his head, but there was a flicker of something like fear in his eyes, just for a moment.

Remus stood up, brushing his hand against Sirius’ shiny, shiny black hair just for a fleeting second, hoping as he busied himself with the kettle that it had conveyed the _I love you_ he didn't dare voice out loud any more. Part of him was surprised to discover he still felt it.

“I can’t decide whether or not I care that I want to believe you but I don’t”. Remus almost choked on his tea.

It was getting into evening now, and he was on his fourth - or was it fifth - cup since he and Sirius had last spoken. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re always fucking sorry, Re”. If Remus had taken another sip, the tea would've been coming out of his nose about now. “You’re sorry when I fuck up, sorry when I don’t, sorry when it fucking rains”.

His hands began to shake.

“So what’s your Lord like, then? Do you make him tea?” Sirius produced a kitchen knife from somewhere and began fiddling with it absentmindedly, twirling the point on the palm of his hand.

Remus tried to choose his words carefully. “I’ve never met the man. But the informant in the Order seemed utterly smitten with him, from what I could see.”

He coughed. “How are James and Lily? And Harry?” he asked, doing his best to change the subject.

“Hiding as usual” Sirius attempted to shrug off the question. Suddenly, the colour drained from his face as the knife dropped to the floor, the clatter strangely loud. “Peter”

“Peter?”

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but before he’d managed to make a sound, a shimmering white phoenix entered through the window. Remus would later note that it had less than its usual grace.

“Remus, Sirius,” Dumbledore’s voice wasn't quite operating at its usual boom! today. “I must ask that you stay indoors and do not for any reason attempt to contact James and Lily, for any reason, until further notice. Have a lovely evening, boys”.

Remus felt his blood boil with fear and anger, and knew without looking up that Sirius’ would be doing the same.

“He didn’t say we couldn't see Harry”. Sirius was driving the tip of the knife into the wood of the table, now. “I’m going to go see Harry.”

“I don’t think that would be the best idea.” Thankfully, Sirius showed no inclination to actually move from the position he’d resumed on top of the kitchen table.

They stayed that way for what felt like hours, Sirius staring darkly at the kitchen table and fiddling with the knife, Remus on one of the dining chairs, folding last week’s Prophet into origami pigs as the sun went from its position behind the day’s heavy cloud to being out of their sights altogether. Regular domestic activities, like eating, just didn't seem worth it this evening.

They didn't really talk, just listened to the sounds of the water in the pipes and the creaking of floorboards elsewhere in their building. The newspaper rustled as Remus’ hands formed yet another pig, the knife scared against the table yet again. At least it wasn’t against Sirius.

At some point, Remus must’ve drifted off, because the next thing he knew, his head was on the table with a newspaper laid over the top of it, and Sirius was nowhere to be seen. His knife was on the floor by one of the chairs, blood on the blade. Remus leaped instantly into panic. There was no way Sirius was in the kitchen, that much was obvious. Was he in the living room? No. Not even under the sofa. Sleeping in the bedroom? No. Nor showering, or digging through the wardrobe for the perfect outfit for the day - even though he hadn't done that in quite some time. In fact, he wasn't in any of the cupboards. Remus even checked the ones too small for anyone but Harry to fit in, just in case Sirius had been in the mood for an enlargement charm. Ten minutes’ wait told Remus he probably hadn’t popped to the shop for more milk, either.

Unable to hold in his growing anxiety any longer, Remus grabbed a pinch of flow powder and fire called the Potters. Or tried to, anyway. Except his voice didn't bounce off the wall of echoes that usually signified a closed floo. Instead, it just cracked into nothing, and wouldn't let him put his head through.

He was at the apparition point in the alley a few streets away from the flat before he’d even thought about where he was going. He didn't need to. He took a deep breath of the cold pre-dawn air, slipped his hands into his key-free pockets, and turned on his heel. The Crack! that followed snapped through the air.

The cobbled streets of Godric’s Hollow felt eerily silent, even allowing for time of day. As he rounded the corner of the street that led to the Potters’ cottage, Remus held his breath. He picked up the pace as a deafening BOOM tore through the air, the screams that followed it cut short, sprinting as though a life depended on it.

Flames licked at the street, the trees, James and Lily’s house - the gap where it should be, Remus realised - smoke was everywhere, in his nose, his mouth, his thoughts -

 _“AGUAMENTI!”_ The scream ripped through his body, the water splashed from his wand and onto the flames with the same ferocity. Remus continues to scream, and the water continued to pour, until the flames were no longer and his chest was teetering on the verge of collapse.

Except what lay where the flames had been was infinitely worse than smoke or flame could ever be. Silky black hair was burnt off in uneven chunks. Pale, aristocratic, beautiful features were forever darkened and marred. Storm-grey eyes were unseeing.

It wasn’t Remus’ lungs that collapsed this time, but his legs. He lay amongst the ashes of his best friends’ home, chest heaving, unable to cry.

“Sirius” he could barely whisper, “Sirius, I’m so sorry”.

Screams tore through his body again as the realisation hit him. Had he not fallen asleep, Sirius would never have left. Had he only known.


End file.
